


It’s Ineffable

by Malstromn



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt No Comfort, If I continue it will definitely be, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Other, Pretty Kinky, Wings, breaking them, id have to say it is, im pretty sure, or at least be platonic, wing fic, yaknow, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-11 01:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malstromn/pseuds/Malstromn
Summary: You know I don’t actually knowIt’s basically just Gabriel torturing CrowleyI’ll be adding tags as I go (if I do keep going) and I hope you like it.Completely un-beta’d so please do point out mistakes and such





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned this might not be continued but I’m not positive on finishing or not so it’s open for now. 
> 
> So this is a culmination of all my emotions from today and yesterday (which were, for the record, not happy emotions) and is the first thing I’ve completed (chapter or story wise) in probably a really long time. Pardon my ranting but I hope you like it and if you have any ideas on where this could go I’m open to ideas.

“Demon Crowley. How nice of you to finally join me,” everything hurt and Crowley had zero clue why. One minute he was watering (and putting fear into of course) his plants and the next he felt like he had been dragged up and down a hundred flights of stairs. Cracking his eyes open, he found a figure looming over him. There was definitely an angelic presence before him but it clearly wasn’t Aziraphale’s form or voice. Breath quickening, his vision sharpened and before him, standing towering above him, was archangel fucking Gabriel. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Was the first thing to come flying out of his mouth. “What is…” Crowley became keenly aware of something constricting his throat. Hands reaching up found a collar of sorts made of some hard material with no latch or any feelable way for it to be removed. 

“Dog shock collar. Quite fitting for a pet like yourself. Of course it’s been adjusted to make this even more fun,” Crowley shuddered at the word ‘fun’. Whatever was going to happen would inevitably not be fun for him in the slightest. “And I am going to show you different levels and if you even make a sound, well, let’s just say you might not enjoy it,” the collar loosened just a little and Crowley exhaled. Gabriel began pacing circles around him, slowly and deliberately intimidating. The room would probably be considered small. Barely tall enough for Gabriel to stand and wide enough that Crowley was sure his wingspan would touch either wall without him moving. 

“It always locked at level 5,” the archangel snapped his fingers and in his hand was a small remote-like rectangle. “I can control it from here or,” he knelt down in front of the demon and grabbed hold of the collar and his hair, pulling back to expose his throat. “I can control it from here too,” he clicked a button and abruptly, Crowley’s throat constricted and waves of agony coursed through his body. They were enough to keep him on the floor but not enough to keep his mouth shut. 

“Fuck you. Is this your screwed up idea of being good? No one in hell would even try-“

“This is giving you what you deserve for screwing up Armageddon and tempting a principality. We archangels do not approve of your kind tempting our kind,” Crowley growled but otherwise said nothing else. Gabriel grinned and stayed knelt in front of him. “This is level 8,” the demon unexpectedly dry heaved at the new waves of pain. 

“You stupid fucking angel,” Crowley hissed, wiping spit from the corner of his mouth. Realizing his hands weren’t completely tied down, he took the opportunity that was kneeling in front of him and lunged out for the angel’s throat. Gabriel shifted and grabbed Crowley’s wrists, jerking them to the side. 

“You will not speak unless I speak to you and I can guarantee you will be put in your place,” he held both wrists in one hand and reached out for the collar and it beeped almost in alarm but quickly stopped and instantly, Crowley saw his vision darken. His mouth fell open and he felt his wings fall out onto the same plane. He was losing control of himself. Tears streamed down his cheek without his permission and suddenly, it was gone. He inhaled sharply and choked back a sob. Presumably level 5 now seemed like a largely uncomfortably hot bath compared to level 11. “You’re going to be put in your place demon and the more you fight, the more fun I’m going to have breaking you,” Crowley shuddered and Gabriel grabbed his chin, yanking his head up. “When I speak to you, you will look me in the eyes, got it?” The demon spat in his face and jerked his head away earning a heavy blow to his head that left his seeing stars and a swift kick to his side. 

Gabriel held out the remote in front of his eyes so he could watch as he set the level back up to 11. Crowley let out a sobbed moan and clawed at the collar earning an electric shock that caused his muscles to seize. His own body was betraying him. He had no control. The shock faded away but the pain did not. He slowly curled his arms up under his chest and sobbed. Gabriel stood above him, satisfied smirk on his lips as he moved around Crowley to his side. Reaching down, he grabbed hold of the base of one of the dark-feathered wings and extended it with his free hand. 

“How did Aziraphale stand to have you around? I’m surprised he didn’t ‘dispose’ of you himself. And these wings, they are absolutely awful, a complete mockery of an angel’s. Hard to believe the Almighty would even make these,” he grasped a large amount of secondary feathers close to the base of the wing and yanked as hard as he could. Crowley gasped at the pain and more tears fell from his eyes. It was like adding insult to injury as Gabriel dangled the tuft of feathers and blood in front of Crowley’s twitching form. “Now demon, tell me, who do you belong to?” Said demon’s mouth was simply hanging open, a thin trail of drool dripping onto the floor. It wasn’t entirely clear if he was breathing but Gabriel knew he hadn’t discorperated and that was all that mattered. So he landed a well placed kick to Crowley’s side and heard the very satisfying crunch of bone. He leaned down and grasped Crowley’s jaw and throat, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “Demon, who do you belong to?”

“F-fuck-“ he choked on his words and tried pulling his head away but the pain still coursing through him prevented him from moving fast enough. 

“You belong to me, don’t forget that. You are mine!” Gabriel hissed before releasing the demon and standing back up. He opened the door and shot one last smirk to Crowley. “Oh. And don’t discorperate,” the door slammed shut and it faded away, leaving more solid wall. Crowley slowly and shakily reached up to the collar and felt around for the buttons and pressed the first one he felt. His vision darkened again but this time it didn’t let up and his consciousness faded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo there I’m back  
I’ve decided to continue and I have at least 2 more chapters planned but I don’t write very fast so it might take a bit  
Anyway, have a great day and enjoy

Only God knew how long it had actually been so Crowley could only speculate. Gabriel had not returned as far as he knew but he obviously wasn’t positive what happened while he was out. He woke from his unconscious state with the worst headache ever, a dry mouth, and a relentless stabbing pain in his side and when he tried to move, he only heard the sound of chains being pulled taut. Crowley could now feel two cuffs holding down his forearms arms and one wrapped around his hips to keep him in the same position, knees underneath him and arms sort of supporting his upper body. He rolled his neck in an attempt to work the kinks out when the door materialized in front of him. Eyes dropping to the ground, he expected to hear Gabriel’s voice but he didn’t. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice floated through the room and Crowley felt his heart flutter. His angel was there, standing in front of him. Why? He glanced up and his heart sunk once more. Aziraphale was frowning, not in the way he usually frowned at Crowley, which tended to look more like a pout but this time, he looked thoroughly disgusted and very much so disappointed. He let his forehead fall back onto the floor with a shaky sigh. “Look at me when I speak to you,” a hand gently snaked through his hair and praying he had mistaken Aziraphake’s emotions, Crowley looked back up. The hand suddenly grasped hold of his hair and pulled so their eyes were level. “You understand?” Crowley mumbled something, his voice hoarse from Gabriel’s visit. “What was that?”

“Yes I’m sorry Angel,” something sharp and cold pressed against his upper exposed throat. Aziraphale had a blessed knife pressed to his throat and Crowley could almost feel the burning of the holy water that was presumably splashed on. 

“You will address me as Aziraphale, Crowley, or there will be consequences,” Crowley almost shied away from the angel’s touch at the way he said his name. It was almost like it was poison in his mouth that he was spitting out. He drew the knife away and stood back up. “Extend your wings fully my dear,” Crowley’s eyes and face screwed up as he tried to will his wings to move. He could still barely focus with the coursing pain of the collar’s level 5. It took a good minute but he managed to lift them from the ground and extend them, wing tips brushing against the sides of the room. His one wing took more effort due to the awful, burning pain near the base that took him a moment to remember why. Aziraphale loved to help preen his wings and he hoped the angel was merely under observation, giving reason to his very unusually violent behavior. 

He almost carefully ran a hand through Crowley’s oil dark feathers, a small smile on his lips as he reached for a primary feather: a singular, perfect feather. He grabbed hold of the base and yanked it out as hard as he could. Crowley inhaled sharply, his wing instinctively pulling away. Aziraphale shook his head and with a sigh, pulled the wing back out. 

“Zira- Aziraphale, what are you doing?” The angel tore another 3 feathers out in a similar fashion while he hummed a soft melody before even attempting to answer. 

“Well you see my dear,” he tugged out another feather and let it drop to the floor. “Gabriel has informed me that yesterday you were a bit, how did he put it, disobedient and we thought that this would help encourage you to do as he says,” 

“We? But Angel, I thought-“ Crowley swore loudly when said angel grabbed a fist-full of feathers and yanked them out. “You weren’t working with them! Why now? What happened? What changed? Why are you doing this- Fuck!” Aziraphale, with a surprisingly calm countenance, held Crowley’s wing in two places and snapped it over his thigh. He dropped the wing to the floor and snapped his fingers, the blood dissipating from his hands. 

Crowley was biting his lip, struggling to one, keep the tears in his eyes, and two, to keep down any noises as to not piss of the angel anymore than he already had. “You really think that we were on our own side? Crowley, I’m sorry but I was never on your side. I am an angel and you are a demon! We’re hereditary enemies and I see no reason for that to change. You are below me. We are going to bring around Armageddon correctly and you aren’t going to be around to stop it,” Crowley let out a sob. An angel, his angel, was completely for murdering him and now also for fighting in a war against the demons, hell-bent on winning. 

Crowley cried. His whole body ached, his wing could be easily irreparable, and now, his chest felt heavy. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest and it felt like it was torn in two. His angel had played him for 6000 years and he fell for it. Every meal they shared, every walk through the park, every meeting, raising Warlock, and even stopping Armageddon once everything they’d done together was pointless. It just didn’t matter to him because here he was, torturing him, breaking his wing, and insinuating that Crowley was going to die. 

Aziraphale walked around to the other side of the room and re-extended Crowley’s uninjuried wing. “You know my dear, I’ve always hated your wings. They’re so dark and I could never stand them when you had them out. Shame, I was told that they were the most beautiful before you fell,” he let the wing fall to the floor then splintered the main bone, the heel of his shoe coming down with an awful cracking sound. 

Aziraphale decided he wanted to do one last thing so he grabbed the collar around Crowley’s neck and turned the level up as high as it could go. He watched with a twinkle in his eyes as Crowley’s body shook and as he sobbed, eyes widening as he tried to fight unconsciousness threatening to overtake him. He didn’t pass out this time but the pain also didn’t leave. “I’m sorry my dear. I have to leave but, Gabriel did say this was quite enjoyable to watch. I must agree with him. I’ll be back my dear,” he slipped out the door and it disappeared, leaving Crowley to his pain and the crushing thoughts of Aziraphale’s betrayal. At this point, he would’ve liked it better if he did just pass out so Crowley shut his eyes and let the pain take him back to sleep.


End file.
